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however, it subsided, and from the last few utterances before



quiet was restored Duane gathered that he had intruded upon

some kind of a meeting in the hall.



"What'd you break in here for," demanded Longstreth.

"Isn't this the court? Aren't you the Mayor of Fairdale?"



interrogated Duane. His voice was clear and loud, almost

piercing.



"Yes," replied Longstreth. Like flint he seemed, yet Duane felt

his intense interest.



"I've arrested a criminal," said Duane.

"Arrested a criminal!" ejaculated Longstreth. "You? Who're



you?"

"I'm a ranger," replied Duane.



A significant silence ensued.

"I charge Snecker with assault on Laramie and attempted



robbery--if not murder. He's had a shady past here, as this

court will know if it keeps a record."



"What's this I hear about you, Bo? Get up and speak for

yourself," said Longstreth, gruffly.



Snecker got up, not without a furtive glance at Duane, and he

had shuffled forward a few steps toward the Mayor. He had an



evil front, but not the boldness even of a rustler.

"It ain't so, Longstreth," he began, loudly. "I went in



Laramie's place fer grub. Some feller I never seen before come

in from the hall an' hit Laramie an' wrestled him on the floor.



I went out. Then this big ranger chased me an' fetched me

here. 1 didn't do nothin'. This ranger's hankerin' to arrest



somebody. Thet's my hunch, Longstreth."

Longstreth said something in an undertone to Judge Owens, and



that worthy nodded his great bushy head.

"Bo, you're discharged," said Longstreth, bluntly. "Now the



rest of you clear out of here."

He absolutely ignored the ranger. That was his rebuff to



Duane--his slap in the face to an interfering ranger service.

If Longstreth was crooked he certainly had magnificent nerve.



Duane almost decided he was above suspicion. But his

nonchalance, his air of finality, his authoritative



assurance--these to Duane's keen and practiced eyes were in

significantcontrast to a certain tenseness of line about his



mouth and a slow paling of his olive skin. In that momentary

lull Duane's scrutiny of Longstreth gathered an impression of



the man's intense curiosity.

Then the prisoner, Snecker, with a cough that broke the spell



of silence, shuffled a couple of steps toward the door.

"Hold on!" called Duane. The call halted Snecker, as if it had



been a bullet.

"Longstreth, I saw Snecker attack Laramie," said Duane, his



voice still ringing. "What has the court to say to that?"

"The court has this to say. West of the Pecos we'll not aid any



ranger service. We don't want you out here. Fairdale doesn't

need you."



"That's a lie, Longstreth," retorted Duane. "I've letters from

Fairdale citizens all begging for ranger service."



Longstreth turned white. The veins corded at his temples. He

appeared about to burst into rage. He was at a loss for quick



reply.

Floyd Lawson rushed in and up to the table. The blood showed



black and thick in his face; his utterance was incoherent, his

uncontrollable outbreak of temper seemed out of all proportion



to any cause he should reasonably have had for anger.

Longstreth shoved him back with a curse and a warning glare.



"Where's your warrant to arrest Snecker?" shouted Longstreth.

"I don't need warrants to make arrests. Longstreth, you're



ignorant of the power of Texas Rangers."

"You'll come none of your damned ranger stunts out here. I'll



block you."

That passionate reply of Longstreth's was the signal Duane had



been waiting for. He had helped on the crisis. He wanted to

force Longstreth's hand and show the town his stand.



Duane backed clear of everybody.

"Men! I call on you all!" cried Duane, piercingly. "I call on



you to witness the arrest of a criminal prevented by

Longstreth, Mayor of Fairdale. It will be recorded in the






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